Lonny glanced up at the gray sky—what he could see of it anyway between the fast-falling snow. What had started as soft flakes had hardened to icy flecks that stung his cheeks. “You check the forecast?”

“Course I did. It said we’d get snow.”

Lonny grinned at True’s terse reply. The woman had really gotten to him. He’d barely spoken a word all afternoon. “How much snow?” he asked, goading him.

True stuck his pitchfork into the hay they were scattering for the cattle crowding closer to the flatbed where they both stood. “About three feet tonight. You might want to hold off visiting your girlfriend until tomorrow. It’ll be deep enough for the snowmobile by then.”

“I told her I’d stop by tonight. And she’s not my girlfriend. Yet.”

True stuck the fork in harder and tossed hay over the side where Lonny stood. “You hoping to get snowed in?”

Lonny brushed off hay and picked bits from his hair. “Dammit, True, you’ve been cross as a hungry bear all afternoon. Why don’t you just spit it out?”

“She’s trouble.”

That hadn’t taken much coaxing. Lonny eyed his brother, amused he’d let the woman get under his skin. “She’s a big girl. Smart too, if you’d taken a couple of minutes to get to know her.”

“Why bother? She’ll be gone in a couple of months.”

“Well, so will I come spring.” He threw a glance at True, but his brother’s set expression didn’t betray a thing about what he thought. “You know I’m heading back out on the circuit.”

“Didn’t ask you to stay.”

No, he hadn’t, but he’d certainly made his disapproval known in a hundred other ways. “You know what your problem is?”

True blew out a deep breath and leaned on the handle of the pitchfork. “No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“You need a woman, True. A wife. Someone to warm your bed and cook your meals. Someone you’d have to talk to.”

“Tried that. Didn’t work out so well, remember?”

Lonny grimaced. “You were both young. Don’t you think it’s time to try again?”

True’s lips twisted. “Just who do you think I ought to marry?”

Lonny thought for a minute then shrugged. Fact was, he didn’t know of any woman strong enough to stand up to his brother’s hard-headedness. Becky had wilted beneath the long brooding silences.

A picture of Honey Cahill stepping into his brother’s path flashed through his mind, and he smiled.

“I didn’t think it was a joke.”

Lonny pressed his lips together to kill the smile. “It wasn’t. I was just thinking of Honey, and the way she stood up to you.”

“Honey.” True grunted and picked up the fork, thrusting it deep into the round bale. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about her.”

“Why? Don’t you like her?”

“I don’t dislike her.”

“She’s a pretty little thing.”

“Little being the biggest problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s not cut out to be here.”

“Becky wasn’t little, and she—”

“We’re not goin’ there. Think I’m in a bad mood now…” He dropped the fork to the floor of the flatbed. “Ms. Cahill’s your problem. You invited her. You can look after her.”

“That won’t be a chore.” Lonny watched the way his brother’s jaw clenched and thought he might know what the real issue was. “True, you interested in her?”

“What?”

“Honey. Do you want her?”

True picked up his coat and thrust his arms through the sleeves, his always dark expression looking like a thundercloud. “I’ll drive the truck back. Can’t leave it here another night. You’ll have to lead my horse.” That was all he said before he leapt over the side of the trailer and stalked toward the cab of the truck.

Lonny felt undecided for a minute. Unsure whether he ought to cut his brother out of the chase by making the first move. But the thought of Honey’s warm humor and womanly curves going to waste, when his brother would never approach her out of sheer stubborn pride, made the decision easier.

Maybe that didn’t make him the best brother. He understood what drove True but couldn’t do a thing to make him budge. He’d been there when True’s marriage ended. By all outward appearances it was an amicable split, but Lonny had seen the true devastation later in the darkness that settled over True. All happiness was crowded out of his life. He led a solitary existence that was unbroken by any urge for him to stir from their mountain.

Lonny leapt over the side of the trailer into a foot of soft-packed snow. He crammed his hat onto his head, gathered up the reins to his brother’s horse, and mounted his own. He turned toward the valley on the other side of the ridge where a plume of smoke promised warmth and feminine company.

If he felt a twinge of guilt, he quickly tamped it down. Honey was just too much temptation for a man to ignore.

Footsteps scuffing across the porch pulled Honey from her story. She glanced to the clock at the corner of her screen, surprised to discover hours had passed since the brothers had left.

The air inside the cabin was chilly, and she realized she’d let the fire go out. She rose, wincing at the dull ache in her lower back, then strode toward the furnace in the corner of the open room. She pulled the lever to close the flue and opened the door, careful to stand to the side as Lonny had shown her in case flame billowed out at the sudden influx of oxygen.

A knock sounded at the door.

“It’s unlocked,” she shouted, reaching for a log. “Come on in.”

The door swung open. “Let me help you with that,” Lonny said, stepping inside.

Grateful, she straightened, easing her muscles with a quick rub.

Lonny’s brows lowered. He took off his hat and brushed the snow off the brim and his shoulders while he stood on the mat. He tugged off his gloves with his teeth, hung his hat on a peg beside the door, then strode toward her. “You forget the fire?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I started working and forgot the time.”

“That’s a good thing, right? For your story?”

“Yeah, means I was in so deep everything else disappeared.”

They stood studying each other’s faces. His expression was watchful but open. Friendly. And if the quick glance he gave her body before he bent and threw more logs inside the furnace was any indication—he was also interested.

“Did you eat dinner?” she asked, trying to remember how one of her heroines would ask a man to make love to her, but she was out of practice. Dinner was just a stalling tactic.

“Not yet,” he said, closing and latching the door of the furnace. “Wanted to stop by before it got too late.”

Maybe she’d been too subtle. “Do you have time to have a meal with me?”

Lonny’s gaze locked with hers. “The way that snow’s comin’ down, if I stay longer than half an hour, I may as well wait until morning to leave.”

There wasn’t any pressure in the way he said it, but she understood what he was asking. Lonny wanted to spend the night with her.

Just what she’d been fishing for.

Her body, chilled only a moment ago, reacted with a surge of warmth that spread from her breasts up her neck to flood her cheeks. Embarrassed to be blushing like a virgin, she shifted her feet and winced when her lower back throbbed.

He sighed, pulling her attention back. The corners of his eyes wrinkled with good humor. “Tonight’s not a good time for dinner. I better get on down the road. But first, I have something for you to try. Let’s move over toward the light,” he said, aiming his chin at the kitchen table.

They moved toward it. Then he fished in his pocket for a tin, which he unscrewed and held up for her to sniff.

The scent of camphor and something not quite as minty opened her sinuses in an instant. “What’s that for?”

“For your back. It’s a liniment I use on my horse when he’s limping.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “And you want me to do what with that?”

Lonny smiled his wicked, flirty smile and lifted a hand, finger pointed toward the floor. He twirled it.

Honey groaned. “You want to do this standing up?”

“I might get ideas if you insist I do it when you’re stretched out on a bed. ’Sides, my horse never complains when I do it this way.”

Honey laughed then slowly turned to give him her back.

Lonny cleared his throat. “Um…you’ll have to push down your pants a little and lift your shirt.”

“Lord, who turned up the heat in here?” she murmured.

His husky laughter stirred her hair, which told her he stood only inches from her. Standing this close, she caught a whiff of barnyard and mint. She wondered if he’d popped a Tic-Tac before coming inside. She decided she liked his earthy-sweet smells and relaxed.

She unbuckled her belt, undid her jeans and shoved them just past her hips. Then she took a deep breath and pulled up her sweater to bare her midriff.

“Nice dimples.” Then his fingers stroked salve over her lower back, the camphor heating her skin. He set aside the tin. “I’m going to brace your front. Promise I won’t take advantage.”

“Sure,” she whispered.

He placed his large hand over her lower belly. Her breath hitched when his little finger entered the vee of her open pants. But her next breath was a sigh when he pushed the heel of his other hand hard against her back, soothing muscles and making her sway. After a few moments, the hand pressed against her front was the only thing holding her up.

He glided and smoothed, working the liniment into abused muscles. Then he gently dug his knuckles into her, which caused her to rise on her toes and her head to dip toward her chest.

“Gettin’ it?” he whispered.

“Mmm-hmm.” Was he ever gettin’ it. Getting her hot, getting her horny.

His hand slowed on her back.

She held her breath, listening to the deepening breaths that fanned against her neck.

The hand in front slipped beneath her open waistband, and then stilled. The warmth of his palm against her vulnerable belly was one of the sexiest sensations she’d felt in a long, long time. She knew he waited to let her make up her mind. She inched apart her feet.

His fingers sank deeper, touching the hair covering her mound. “Bend over. Grab the edge of the table.”

The way he said it, his voice thick and raspy, sent a quiver of lust through her. She bent and gripped the edge, while her heart pounded hard against her chest.

The first gentle scrape of callus over her hooded clit made her groan. She bit her lip to hold back more sounds.

“It’s okay to make some noise, you know,” he said, stroking deeper between her folds.

“It’s been so damn long, I’ll sound like a porn queen,” she said, her voice shaky.

His chuckle sounded strained. His long fingers swept over her lips, gathering her moisture. One digit thrust into her entrance and swirled. The hand at her back resumed the massage, heel grinding into bruised muscle.

Aroused and soothed, all at once, her body began to quiver.

Honey wished she had the nerve to shove her pants off her bottom, to lift herself higher and beg for his cock, but that would have required her prying her fingers from the table. She gave an agonized groan and lowered her head, resting it on cool wood.

Two fingers stroked inside, and she clamped her thighs together, holding him there.

He held still, but then she rocked her hips to fuck them. So wet now, his hand was sliding in slippery honey, and he moved easily in and out, his thumb caressing her clit.

“Lone…” she moaned, turning her head, ready to beg him to fuck her.

“This is all you get tonight, sweetheart. Take it. Fly with it.”

An apt description of just what she felt. Her body undulated in sublime heat. The flick of his thumb and thrust of those digits burrowing deeper, sliding faster, had her arousal building, surging…and then she came, shattering happily, her cries broken and aching.

“Sweet,” he whispered, a kiss landing on her cheek as he leaned over her.

She gave a shaky laugh and pushed away from the table. He straightened behind her, pulling his fingers from her pussy. They made a slick trail up her belly.

“I’ll let myself out,” he said softly.

His footsteps moved away, and she zipped her jeans, leaving the ends of her belt dangling as she followed him to the door.

Honey was tempted to ask him to stay. Really tempted, but then she thought about that bottle of scotch and the fact she really didn’t know Lonny all that well. Not yet anyway. “Guess you better go,” she said softly. “But thanks. For…everything.”

Standing next to the door, hat in hand, he turned. “If the power goes out, you won’t have a phone. Land line’s on the same poles.”

She nodded. “I know. No cell coverage out here, either.” When he hesitated again, she laughed softly. “I do want that kiss you’re thinking about.”

Lonny’s slow grin was filled with devilment. “Was I that obvious?”

Laughing softly, she stepped closer and tilted back her head. “I haven’t felt this awkward since high school when Donny Mathis walked me to the door, and then hemmed and hawed for ten minutes before working up the nerve.”

“Should I be nervous?” he asked, moving in, his hands landing on her hips to pull her against him.

When their bellies rubbed, she forgot all about why she shouldn’t want this. The heat in his gaze soothed away her doubts.

His kiss was hot, not so much tongue that she felt like a snake wiggled in her mouth—nice. Very nice. His tongue withdrew, his lips suctioned hers. Then he lifted his head. “Be safe. And don’t forget that stove again. I don’t want you sick.”

She warmed to his concern. “I won’t forget.”

He bent, gave her cheek a quick peck, then ducked out the door.

She shut it behind him and leaned against the cold wood, her body still humming from the delicious thrill of their encounter. More than ever, she knew she’d done the right thing getting away from familiar surroundings. Not once while he’d been with her had she felt a twinge of sadness. Maybe, she really was ready to move on.

True heard the clomp of Lonny’s boots as he strode down the hallway. His office door swung open, and Lonny stuck his head inside.

His brother’s mouth stretched as he looked down to see what rested in True’s lap. “Finally reading it, I see.”

True set aside the book and dropped his feet from the ottoman he’d rested them on. “How’s she doing?”

Lonny stepped inside the door but came no farther. “Settling in.”

“Didn’t expect you back.”

Lonny arched a brow. “Are you fishing to know whether we had sex?”

His brother’s mouth tightened. “Not any of my business.”

“That’s too bad,” Lonny said, his face hardening. “She’s mighty pretty. Took some of Mustang Joe’s liniment over there to rub on her sore back.”

True’s body tightened. “She let you?”

“Didn’t need much coaxing. Must have been hurting bad.”

“That the only reason you didn’t stay?”

“Nope.” Lonny stepped deeper into True’s inner sanctum. He rubbed the back of his neck, and then aimed a pointed glance his way. “Things with Honey haven’t gone so far I wouldn’t take a step back.”

True narrowed his glance then grunted. “Why are you so worried about my sex life?”

“Because you don’t have one,” he drawled. “And I’m not selfish. I have fuck buddies I can call on whenever I have urges.”

“That’s what you plan to make her? A fuck buddy?” He hated even repeating the phrase, especially in reference to Honey Cahill.

“Maybe I do.”

True’s gaze fell to the book.

“She’s not like that. It’s just what she writes.”

True tightened again at the thought of the things he’d read. “Did you ask her what she had in all those boxes?”

“Think she’s got slings and toys packed inside? Maybe a leather corset?” Lonny lifted his eyebrows. “I’d like to see her in one of those.”

So would True. Which made him angry at himself. That wasn’t him. To him sex wasn’t a game. Wasn’t something you had to dress up for. And he didn’t have it in him to leave a mark on a woman. The images she’d painted of a woman so enthralled with a man she’d let him tie her up and whip her made him feel a little queasy—not to mention inadequate.

“Just say the word, bro,” Lonny said softly.

“I don’t need you to make any hookups for me. I’m not interested.”

“Then why bother with the book?”

“Just wanted to know what kind of person we’d let onto our property.” Damn, he was getting good at lying.

“She’s nice, True. Sweet.”

“You talkin’ about her personality or her flavor?”

Lonny shook his head then turned toward the door. “I’m gonna grab a bite. Later.”

The door slammed shut, leaving True alone. The book lay face down, Honey Cahill’s smiling face turned toward him. The picture wasn’t her. It looked airbrushed. Her hair was darker in the black-and-white photo, and her smile looked forced.

He picked it up again, settled deeper in his chair and fought the erection burgeoning between his thighs as he read on. Did Honey like the kiss of leather branding her ass?

He remembered that sweet ass, those two dimples peeking from under her sweater. It was round and firm. Her skin was pale cream. He imagined his hand spread over a cheek, imagined lifting it to strike her soft skin. He’d leave thick rows of pink.

Would her pussy melt? Would she moan, her breathy cries rising into a crescendo?

If he had a mind to, could he even give her what she needed to be happy?

Foolish thoughts, given the fact she’d be gone as soon the season changed. Still, the thought of spending a few nights in her bed, spending his frustrations and disappointments while he stroked her to satisfaction, tantalized.

He wondered about that massage Lonny had hinted at. How far out of hand had it gotten? Not that the thought of taking her, even if his brother had already been there, should really matter.

It wasn’t like he wanted her in his life forever. The memory of her gaze landing on his cock for those long seconds, while she’d lain sprawled at his feet, teased him. Maybe he should stop by to see her.

He wouldn’t be the one to make the first move. He’d let her actions, her expressions, tell him whether she wanted him. But then what? True cussed softly and picked up the book, looking for clues for how to please a worldly woman like Honey Cahill.